In the Light of Day
by SineTimore
Summary: a "Tick, Tick, Tick" insert with a twist. *one-shot*


**Disclaimer: **As always, I have no right to claim much of anything as my own, certainly not these two.

**AN:** Dear hiatus, go away forever. You hurt my heart. And, thanks to my readers. Your kindnesses never cease to overwhelm me.

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_**In the Light of Day**_

Her body ached, stiff from the hours spent curled on her side, eyes fixated on the red glow of the clock next to the bed. The numbers ticked by slowly and, she swore, with a whisper of ridicule, as if aware of her every passing thought.

Castle was standing guard on the couch just steps from her bedroom door, his able body leaving its imprint on the fabric of her home. She couldn't see him or hear him but she felt him around her still. She fought in vain against the interlopers, the images that swept through her mind despite her every objection. Images of him. And of them. Images that certainly had no place in the midst of her current circumstance.

Her eyes were heavy with fatigue but her mind would not relent. The weight of her feeling of responsibility was inescapably oppressive. And she thought of him, her writer, no doubt burdened with like emotion, and though like she, rational enough to understand the fallacy inherent in the acceptance of such blame, she felt certain that he too was deep in battle.

She heard it then, as the new hour began in front of her eyes, the squeak of old wood under foot. Though he moved with caution, she had catalogued every sound that her apartment made- a cop's curse- and she knew that he was near. The bedroom door inched open and she remained deliberately still. She watched in secret as he drifted gingerly across the room, using the meager light granted only by the glow from her nightstand. He found the chair in the corner and sat, close enough to watch but not close enough to see. Her pulse quickened as his presence filled the room. Minutes went by. It wasn't as she had imagined at all. It was much more. Castle being there with her.

"Why did you come here tonight?" she asked into the darkness, the words escaping her lips without permission.

He remained silent, surprised by her voice and uncertain of his own.

"Rick?" fell out gently as she altered her position on the bed, her body shifting to face him.

"Because I knew you'd never ask me," he answered finally, "and this is all that I can give you." The frustration he felt was palpable and his tone a reflection of it. "Look, I'm not a cop. I don't have any resources to bring to bear here. And the thought of something happening to you is-" He swallowed the words that he knew he shouldn't say. "I'm sorry. Are you…do you want me to go?"

Every part of her screamed in opposition but she said nothing. He rose from the chair; his eyes now adjusted enough to see her motionless outline at the edge of the bed. As he crossed in front of her on his way back out the door, his movement was stalled by her hand's sudden grip on his sweater. She tugged until he stood close.

"Kate?" he asked, soft and uncertain.

She pulled her legs up under her and kneeled in front of him on the bed, her height nearly matching his. Her thumb brushed over his lip and he shivered in surprise. "No, Castle," she whispered reverently, "I don't want you to go."

She leaned into him with her whole body and he accepted her. It began frantically, their warm mouths and soft tongues craving contact, hands roaming, grabbing, exploring. Her gentle sigh against his lips roused his desire and his need to a level he couldn't recall ever experiencing.

She broke from him reluctantly but with purpose and pulled at his sweater until she freed him, his skin heated and exposed. She dropped the fabric to the floor and ran her fingernails up the length of his torso, over his chest, along his neck and into his already mussed hair, gripping it in wait for what was to come.

"Tell me," he insisted anxiously, her fingers still holding firm.

"Tell you what?" she responded playfully, moving backwards on the bed and pulling him along with her.

"Tell me what you want, Kate. I need to hear you say it."

She rolled them over without warning, her body straddling his belly, her hands pressed against his shoulders, pinning him down. "Say _what _exactly, Castle?" She leaned in and ran her tongue over his Adam's apple. "Say that I've thought about this?" Her teeth grazed his earlobe. "Say that I've wanted to know what this would feel like since the day we met?" Her breath tickled his lips. "Say that I want this just as much as you do?" She slid slowly backwards until she made contact with his firm middle and rocked her hips gently forward along his still hidden but pronounced length. "Is that what you want to hear?"

His body surged upward from the bed, drawing strength from the adrenaline coursing through him. He pulled her against him with insistence and her body responded willingly. Her thigh muscles quivered as they clung to his hips, her center aligned exquisitely with his stiff shaft. Absent of any delicacy, her camisole was stripped and tossed aside, exposing her skin to the urgency of his wanting mouth.

His tongue marked a path over and around her taut nipples, each swirl sending a bolt of electricity through her entire body. She pulled back firmly on his hair, desperate for a moment of relief from his vigor which already had her on the verge of release. She pressed her open mouth against his, wet and hot, and pushed him flat against the mattress once again. She relished the position of power, the advantages it afforded, but Castle did as well and he wanted his turn.

He spun them wildly, rolling close enough to the bed's dark edge to elicit a laugh from both. "Smooth," she teased, her form now pinned under the weight of his half-clothed frame.

"Hmmm, I'd like to find out," he murmured in retort, sliding lower in search of his answer. He maneuvered her legs apart using his own and kneeled between them, his fingers dipping below the band of the cotton pants at her hips. He pulled at them slowly and deliberately, her ass lifting from the bed, eager to assist. He hooked a hand under her right knee, moving it into her body just enough to free her leg from the garment completely. As her limb dropped back down to the bed, it fell open, granting him the access he so longed for.

He didn't hesitate. He said nothing. His tongue was on her in seconds. Her body arched excitedly in response but his mouth never broke contact. Without discernible pattern, he circled, sucked and flicked, the sighs and whimpers emanating from her throat encouraging him, arousing him further. His name spilled from her mouth on an exhale as his thick fingers found entry, her leg now perched atop his back.

And he knew. He knew her body as he knew her mind. He increased the pressure and the speed of his implements until the release of pleasure washed over her like a wave. She writhed under him as her warmth coated his lips, glistening though neither could see. His head came to rest at her hip, her scent in the air around him, a combination of floral soap and musk. She grabbed again at his mane, the only thing within her reach, and remained still, save for the uncontrollable twitch that lingered as a delicious reminder.

"Very smooth," he spoke into the silence. "Just as I imagined it."

"I certainly hope that you weren't imagining such things during work hours, Castle."

Her audible grin prompted his move back up her body. "Do I work next to you all day long, Katherine?" he inquired somewhat rhetorically.

"Yes, you do."

"Then I've imagined such things during work hours." His mouth found her ear in the darkness. "You gonna fire me now?"

"Not exactly the f-word I had in mind," she quipped, her hand reaching for his belt.

"Naughty," he replied. "I approve."

"Mmhmm," was all he heard as she managed to loosen the leather and free him from the restriction of the denim barrier. He was large and solid in her hand and she ached to feel him inside her body. She stroked him, drew her thumb over his damp tip, twisted and squeezed until he begged for her with only a drawn out _please_.

She tore the remaining garments from his body and climbed over his hips, taking him again in her hand and gliding him along her dripping center. She lowered herself over him gradually, his size warranting the extra care and the memorization of every second. Each made an imperceptible sound at the contact, the pressure, the fit of the other. And then she began to move.

It was slow at first, the roll of her hips, the slight shift up and down. His fingers dug at her hips and his head rose from the pillow in futile hope of catching a glimpse of her face as she gave and took. Every molecule in his body cried out to him in euphoria and though he never wanted any of it to end, he felt it building inside of him.

He increased his motion as she did in kind, the resulting sounds that filled the room a testament to their zeal. With one last rock and one final thrust, he emptied inside of her, her fingers digging into the skin of his belly. She fell gently against his chest, their bodies still connected, liquid pooling on the sheets below.

"That was…" he sputtered, losing his words mid-sentence.

"Yeah, it was," she purred, matching him thought for thought.

And the room fell silent with sleep.

The morning's alarm rang out too short a time later and she smacked it defiantly with her hand. She rubbed her eyes and looked around the room, its appearance the very same as hours earlier. She brushed the sheets aside and swung her feet over the side of the bed to her slippers.

She was fully dressed. And entirely confounded.

The sound of metal on metal in the distance sent her seeking out its origin. Passing through the hallway and into the living room, she spotted him moving around her kitchen, pots and pans on the stove, the smell of morning wafting about.

"Morning," he said, spotting her across the room. "You sleep okay? You look terrible."

"I, uh-" she muttered in near silent tone, all that would come out.

"Well, your couch is surprisingly comfortable, so I slept like a log. Can I pour you some coffee?"

She managed to make it the few steps to the nearest piece of furniture which she clutched with the small amount of strength she had left in her body.

It was all a dream.


End file.
